Bloom

It has been a desert here,
For too long
And I have grown thorns.

Folded into myself,
As my exterior grows sharper,
Safer,
Day by day.

I am unable to be devoured.
And if they try,
I leave a mark.
A remembrance to stay,
Far away.

But suddenly I have found
A flower
Growing in the axil.
Through the thorns.

She is small,
And I long to warn her,
The desert is not for life.
It is death
To any desire for flourishing.

But here she grows,
Undeterred.
Through the thorns.
Beautiful.

It has been a desert here,
For too long
Yet I have begun to bloom.